


one more slide (and then we're back to real life)

by heartbreakordeath



Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Magical Realism, Slow Burn, i have absolutely no idea how to tag this, technically inspired by howl's moving castle?? idk it's kyle and dan's fault
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24673294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartbreakordeath/pseuds/heartbreakordeath
Summary: talk about the most RANDOM thing to EVER WRITE but uh. here it is. the magic tour bus fic. loosely based onthe "howl's moving castle" distraction tactics chat kyle and dan hadand fed mostly by the wonderful bastille discord server <3(new title from helium by glass animals as most of you can probably tell)
Relationships: Kyle Simmons/Dan Smith
Comments: 45
Kudos: 43





	1. the introduction

**Author's Note:**

> this is just the introduction bc i've been TRYING not to post this as I go but you know me.....we'll see what happens...

Sometimes, tour stories are to be kept as jokes; as blackmail; as quirky anecdotes, to be pried out by inquisitive interviewers to make them seem more interesting.

(Because, as most of them will surely tell you, the members of Bastille do not find themselves to be particularly interesting- and no decent interviewer has the time for  _ that _ self-deprecating bullshit.)

And really, despite the fact they’re a worldwide-touring pop band and have a singular shared braincell between the five of them...not much happens on the tour bus. Sure, there’s some chaos every once in a while, but rarely ever anything noteworthy enough to post about.

(Not that that ever stops Dan from posting about it anyways.)

Then there’s a night that changes all of that, one that sets off a chain reaction of events that not a  _ single _ soul on the tour bus will ever tell another person. 

(They have to specify “person” after Charlie asks for permission to tell Luna when they get back from tour. He gets it.)

The day starts like any other- the tour bus rumbles its way through a raging thunderstorm, with most of the band retreating to their bunks or the couches until they’ve arrived safely at the venue. The bus driver leaps out before anybody else can, swearing up and down that he’d seen lightning strike the bus on the highway, and runs off to find the bathroom.

(“We should pay him more,” Will remarks as they gather their things and prepare for the short sprint through the rain.)

The stage gets set up without much delay, soundcheck proceeds as normal, and the show goes off without a hitch. It’s only when they’re back on the bus and headed for the next city that things start to get...well,  _ weird _ . 

  
The fateful night comes when Dan stumbles out of his bunk at 2am, opens the door to the outside world to get some air, finds himself staring straight into the eyes of an  _ extremely _ confused McDonald’s worker instead, and decides he’s finally lost it.


	2. don't talk to strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Uh,” the young woman said, but he was already pitching backwards and stuttering out some sort of frantic apology as he slammed the door shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things i'm horrible at:  
> \- waiting until a fic is done to post another chapter
> 
> anyways i heard a few friends had a not-very-nice day, and i can relate, so i thought hey, why not, i'm sick of reading over this chapter, why don't i just throw it out there? enjoy :) i've also updated the end of the intro just a tad, to try and reduce any confusion from before, if you feel like going back and refreshing your memory on that!

“Uh,” the young woman said, but he was already pitching backwards and stuttering out some sort of frantic apology as he slammed the door shut. He stared at it, brain dimly registering that  _ something _ about that seemed a little off. How had they ended up by a McDonald’s? More importantly, why was there a McDonald’s employee outside?

He frowned, feeling a bit unsteady, like the world was rotating on its axis just a bit faster than normal. He reached for the door again- to see whether she was still there, or to ask for a Big Mac as a midnight snack, maybe, sue him- and jolted awake, grasping for the back of the sofa before he slid right off.

_ Oh _ .

He sat up, stretching his sore legs out as much as he could with the coffee table in the way, and checked his phone. It was only 1am- he must have passed out during the movie they’d been watching and nobody woke him up. Dan sighed and got up, entire body aching as he trudged towards his bunk. Of course even dream-him couldn’t get a fucking burger.

* * *

  
  


He woke up the next morning with a pounding headache from their night out in Plymouth. The bus was moving, now ( _ hadn’t it been moving last night? _ ), and Dan paused as he passed the main door on the way to the bathroom. Something trickled through the fuzzy haze in his head...some vague feeling that there was something he’d forgotten.

On some unknown impulse, he went to the nearest window and peered out of it. They were on a nondescript stretch of motorway, as expected. He shrugged and headed for the bathroom, wondering belatedly why he hadn’t gone while they’d been stopped last night. Or had they been driving last night? His head was spinning, and he rushed to the toilet as fast as he could. He  _ really  _ needed to chill out with the alcohol- hangovers were  _ not  _ a good partner to the constant movement of a tour bus.

* * *

He’d forgotten all about it by the next night, but then it was 2am, and they were on their way to yet another  part of the  country, and Dan couldn’t sleep again. His insomnia never came as a surprise to him, so he accepted his fate and played some mindless game on his phone until his eyelids drooped and he dozed for a few hours. 

He dreamed of playing a gig at an empty festival, hearing his own voice magnified around him, deafening against the silence of the muddy field. He looked around, confused- he was alone on stage too, singing  _ These Streets  _ on autopilot- until something caught his eye from above. His singing cut off abruptly as a stream of technicolor bombs started falling down around him, flashing as they hit the ground and exploded into fluorescent shards that flew straight at his face before he could move away.

The impact shocked him awake, and he stayed perfectly still for a moment, pulse racing, still bracing for the colorful explosion that never came.

And maybe he kept dreaming, because in a blink he was in front of the door. He’d remembered eventually, once they passed yet another McDonald’s the other day, that he’d had some sort of dream about it. He’d been having a lot of weird dreams recently, he realized- probably the melatonin he took to help him fall asleep some nights. Come to think of it, though, he hadn’t actually taken it recently…

Dan blinked in confusion, feeling the rumble of the road beneath his socked feet and wondering why he’d wandered the wrong way down the hallway. It was the sofa he’d meant to find, and he’d sworn he’d gone to the left…

He turned back around, and then he heard it. There was...no, he couldn’t have heard that. 

Because it sounded like- 

Like there was a voice coming from outside the bus. And outside the bus was the motorway, wheels rolling over an endless expanse of road, so unless some really enthusiastic fan had glued themselves to the tour bus during its last rest stop-

_ What the fuck? _

There it was again- it was unmistakable. He stared at the door to the bus, unblinking. Someone was snoring again in the bunks- it sounded like Kyle. It was a familiar sound, now, after five years of sharing a bus with the same set of people.

The tour bus didn’t  _ normally  _ cause him to hear voices, though. That was a new one. Maybe all the alcohol was finally getting to him, after all. Slowly, his ears picked up the faint sound again: it was a  _ woman’s  _ voice.

And as far as he knew, unless they  _ did  _ have a stowaway- which would honestly make far more sense in this situation- there wasn’t a single woman on the bus. 

(He made a mental note that they should probably change that, but at the moment it wasn’t exactly very high on his priority list.)

Which could only mean...either he was going absolutely  _ mad _ , or there was somebody on the other side of that door.

Slowly, knowing he was being a total fool, he reached for the handle.  _ It won’t open.  _ _ Doors don’t open in the middle of the fucking highway. It’ll be locked. Obviously. _

It wasn’t locked. A delirious laugh left his throat as the door swung open, revealing a dark street in the middle of downtown… _ Paris? _ his mind supplied, as a woman (the source of the voice, he assumed) walked by speaking rapid French into her cell phone. She gave him an annoyed look, adjusting the phone in her hand as she continued down the street. He looked down at himself- the white socks, the black tracksuit bottoms, the ratty gray tee shirt- and back up to the doorway, and it was still there. 

He could still feel the vibrations of the bus moving under him, could even still hear Kyle snoring in his bed, and as he looked out at the dark street a strange sense of vertigo overtook him. This was  _ impossible _ , it couldn’t be happening, and yet…he wasn’t sure whether to laugh, or cry, or break down right there in the doorway.

“What,” he whispered under his breath, “The actual fuck. What the fuck?”

He should close the door right now. Maybe he was sleepwalking, about to faceplant out of the bus without anybody else knowing. Maybe they’d all wake up in the morning, unaware that their band’s lead singer was currently a pile of pulp 50 miles behind the bus.

Dan took a cautious step onto the pavement sidewalk, keeping a hand firmly on the door. 

(What else was he supposed to do? Go back inside? If this was a dream, it was a fucking good one.)

It was solid beneath his feet, and when he looked up he saw, partially obscured by clouds and the lights of the city, a myriad of stars.

“Oh, fuck  _ off _ ,” he said in bewilderment as he took another step and saw the lit spire of the Eiffel Tower in the distance.

He shivered as the wind picked up and the hair rose on the back of his neck. He turned back towards the bus, breath catching in his throat when he ended up staring in shock at the peeling walls of an abandoned-looking block of flats.

It took every muscle in his body to stop him from immediately letting go of the death grip he had on the door. Dan looked down to the entryway and saw the darkness of the tour bus staring back at him. He was still holding the familiar metal handle, could still see the door, a stark contrast to the building it surrounded- but if he tilted his head a certain way, until it was  _ nearly  _ out of view...a faded green door hovered in his vision, translucent beneath his hand.

_ What in the world…? _

Suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed and  _ far  _ too sober for the situation, he stepped back into the bus (maybe it was ridiculous of him, but he couldn’t help a breath of relief when he ended up there and not in some random person’s flat) and closed the door carefully. He stared at it, opened it again- still Paris. Closed it. Back on a road in the middle of the UK. Opened it- a car hurtled past blasting French rap music, making him fall over in his rush to close it again.

And then there was someone behind him, rubbing his eyes and looking down at Dan, who was sprawled out on the floor, breathing heavily.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kyle glanced from Dan to the door, narrowing his eyes. Dan followed his gaze, panicked, hoping he’d been able to close it all the way. 

“I-” Dan pushed his conspicuously windswept hair off of his forehead, forcing himself to look up at Kyle instead. “Uh- just going to get some water, actually. Slipped.”

Kyle glanced down the hall, towards the kitchenette at the opposite end of the bus. “Uh...you sure?”

“Yeah, I, uh...went the...wrong way?” He winced.  _ Brilliant.  _

He held his breath as his friend stared at him for a moment, baffled.

“God, what did you  _ drink _ , tonight, man?” He shook his head and held out a hand to help Dan up. 

Dan snorted, shrugging as best he could from his position on the floor.

“Whatever it was, save some of it for me next time, alright?” Kyle laughed and pulled Dan up to his feet with a groan.

“Just need to get some sleep, I guess.” 

Kyle, to his credit, simply nodded in understanding. They were still holding hands. Dan looked at them and said nothing.

“Still can’t sleep on the bus, huh?”

“Nope.” Dan waved off his friend’s concerned look. “S’alright, though. Sorry I woke you.”

Kyle shrugged halfheartedly and dropped his hand, turning back to his bunk. “Just...get some sleep, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Dan said absentmindedly, eyes back on the door. “Good idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fyi if anyone caught the howl's moving castle reference-turned-survivin'-reference ilysm
> 
> sorry to the, like, 5 people who care abt this fic bc 4 of you have already read the first draft of this chapter,,,,
> 
> speaking of which!!! manymanyMANY thanks to everyone who gave feedback on this chapter, and especially thank you to my wonderful beta [williever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/willIever)


	3. ran into the night from all you had

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next night, he simply shook his head when the band headed downtown after the show, spouting some mumbled excuse about not feeling up to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise!! happy gift fic month, bus fic friends :D this chapter is more of a group gift, as I am only one human with only two hands to type with, but I'm dedicating this one to every single one of you in the bastille discord server- without you, this fic never would have happened.

The next night, he simply shook his head when the band headed downtown after the show, spouting some mumbled excuse about not feeling up to it. He eyed the door to the bus warily as he opened it and headed for the sofas. _Ignore it_. _It’s just a fucking door._

He sat down, eyes drifting back over to it against his will.

_...but what if it isn’t?_

Dan forced himself to focus on his phone, leg bouncing anxiously as he scrolled through Twitter until it stopped refreshing. The silence settled over him like a weighted blanket, comforting at first but becoming considerably more suffocating the longer he sat there.

After a while, he suddenly realized he’d stopped scrolling, stuck on a tweet from Kyle about the night’s show. Guilt washed over him, twisting his insides uncomfortably, and he sighed- maybe he should’ve gone out with them after all.

Not that he would have _enjoyed himself_ , of course. It just felt odd to be alone in the bus after…after _what_ , exactly?

He clenched his fist, unclenched it. It was nothing. Just another weird dream. A really, really fucking vivid dream.

Clench. Unclench. His leg started bouncing of its own volition, and he glared at it.

_Fine._

Dan pushed himself off the sofa, tossing his phone down on the table. He was at the door in three long strides, hand reaching for the handle, when the crunch of footsteps on gravel made him pause. 

_Shit_. He stepped back quickly, dropping his hand to his side right as the door swung open.

“-Oh.” Kyle froze on the step, inches away from Dan. “Uh. Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Are you…” He wavered, standing awkwardly half in and half out of the doorway. “Uh...feeling any better?”

Dan stared at him. “Uh,” he replied eloquently. He blinked, shaking his head, and moved out of the way. “You’re back early.”

“...Yeahhhh?” Kyle frowned and stepped past Dan, heading for the kitchenette. “Wanted to make sure you were alright, ‘s all.”

“Oh.” Dan’s shoulders slumped as he closed the door behind Kyle, letting go of it as soon as possible as if it was hot to the touch. “Sorry. I’m fine. You didn’t have to come back for me.” _Why did you come back for me?_

Kyle shrugged and grabbed a beer from the minifridge. “Beer’s cheaper here. And I don’t have to listen to the three of them complain _all night_ about leaving their women at home. You’re the only one I’ve got on my side when that happens.”

Dan laughed nervously, shaking his head when Kyle offered him a bottle and leaning against the counter instead. “Yeah, well. Don’t worry. That won’t be changing anytime soon.”

He’d meant for it to come out as a joke, but Kyle just sighed and twisted the top off his beer. “Maybe it will for _you_ ,” Dan tried, raising his eyebrows. “You never know.” 

Kyle scoffed, gesturing around the empty space. “Yeah, right. Great place to meet people.”

“You were _at a bar_.”

“And I _left_ to make sure my _friend_ wasn’t puking his intestines out in some dark alleyway! If that means I’ll be single forever...” He tossed his hands up in defeat, nearly sloshing beer onto the floor. “Whatever, right?”

Dan could only shrug. Kyle stared at him for a moment, considering, then appeared to shake himself out of his thoughts. He put the bottle down on the counter and clapped his hands together.

“Right! Well. Bus to ourselves for once. What’s the plan?”

Dan brightened, straightening and heading straight for the TV. Conversations were never his strong suit, even with his best friend. _This_ he could do. Kyle rolled his eyes, a knowing smile playing on his face, and followed his friend, muttering “I don’t know what I expected” under his breath.

* * *

“What?”

“I said, would you do it?”  
  
“ _Obviously_ not!” Dan laughed and shuddered violently. “Never. Nobody would watch it and they’d cancel the entire show.”

Kyle snorted. “Oh, come _on_! You’d boost their ratings instantly.”

“Would not! Who the fuck would want to watch me in _that_?”

“I would! It would be fuckin’ _hilarious_ , that’s what it would be. Everyone would get to see what your hair looks like without all that shit in it, for one.”

“As if _you_ don’t spend half an hour putting shit in yours!” Dan sat back, crossing his arms and nodding at the TV. “Would _you_ do it, then?”

“Pssh. No. Spending all that time with one person, like _that_? All the cameras on you 24/7? No thanks, it’s not worth it. I don’t even think they get paid that much for it.”

“Really? I thought Woody said they did.”  
  


“I looked it up, though, he’s wrong! You could make more money working at a McDonald’s, for christ’s sake.”

“Fuckin’ hell.” Dan shook his head. He stretched, careful not to whack Kyle with an arm as he lifted them over his head. “This show is so stupid.”

“You’re the one who put it on,” Kyle protested, eyes following Dan’s arms warily.

“I _know_. I just..I don’t know.” He pulled his arms back, picking up his phone to check the time. “Didn’t feel like annoying you with all my usual dumb stuff, ‘s all.” He could feel Kyle’s eyes on him as he stared blankly at the bright screen, void of any notifications to respond to.

“Your stuff’s not annoying,” Kyle said after a moment. “You just like to share it with people. It’s kinda cool, actually. How excited you are about it. I’m sure _Twin Peaks_ has hundreds more fans because of you.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Really.”

“Yeah, really!” Kyle insisted, nudging his knee against Dan’s. Dan huffed a laugh and shifted on the couch.

“My _impact_ ,” he replied sarcastically, stretching out his left leg but leaving the other one by Kyle’s. _Damn this bus and its stupidly undersized seating areas._

“What the fuck did that guy just eat?” Kyle exclaimed suddenly, eyes glued back on the TV.

“I don’t even want to know.” Dan shuddered. “I’m telling you, I wouldn’t survive a day.”

“Survive a day in what?” They both flinched, Dan pretending not to notice the way Kyle shifted away from him automatically as the bus door opened. Woody stuck his head into the bus, eyes flicking past the two of them to the TV. “Seriously? You ditched us for _Naked & Afraid_?”

* * *

Like a true introvert, Dan was in his bunk less than an hour after the rest of the band returned to the bus. Like a true insomniac, he ended up laying in the dark for the next two, staring blankly at the ceiling. This time, a stupid phone game or a scroll through Instagram wasn’t going to be enough to distract him.

What if it had all been real? What if he wasn’t going crazy, and he’d really, somehow, gone through that door and...and _teleported_ to France? 

Could you even _dream_ something like that? Nothing had ever been as vivid before- if he closed his eyes, he could still feel the night air on his face, hear the voice of the woman on the phone, see the clouds and stars in the sky.

_It couldn’t have been real. But it couldn’t..._ **_not_ ** _have been real._

Well, there was only way to find out, as insane as it sounded.

He carefully slipped out of his bunk once he was mostly convinced everyone was asleep. He tugged a pair of Converse onto his feet and grabbed a jacket, heart pounding as he slipped past his friends’ bunks.

It was quiet this time. Dan strained to hear anything over the white noise of the road and the intermittent snoring coming from behind him, half expecting to hear voices again. 

“It’s just a door,” he said to it, feeling stupider by the second. It _had_ to have been a dream last night- maybe he’d sleep-walked to the door and woken up when Kyle found him on the floor. _That would make sense._

It would make complete and total sense, that his sleepless nights had finally culminated in some strange, insane fever dream- until Dan reached for the door handle and ended up in a beachside cottage in the middle of nowhere.

_Oh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a note in my google docs that says "imaginary plot twist they were actually talking abt the bachelor kyle just switched it when the rest of the band came in i will die on this hill" so. do with that what you will sdafjkldsffsd


	4. i'll see you on the other side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he risked a step outside and checked his phone, it told him he was in Maine and promptly charged him a stack of international service fees. _So. Not a dream, then. Okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> while gift fics are on pause at the moment until i find a way to get around my newfound writer's block (ugh), i realized that it would be a perfect time to post this chapter bc i happen to be in Maine right now, which is exactly where one of our protagonists has unexpectedly ended up. enjoy! happy new year :)

When he risked a step outside and checked his phone, it told him he was in Maine and promptly charged him a stack of international service fees. _So. Not a dream, then. Okay._

It still felt like one, though, when he let go of the creaky door with a deep exhale. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to happen- that the sand would disappear, and he’d sink through it all and be swallowed whole? That he really _was_ just sleepwalking, and they’d have to finally have Charlie step up as frontman after his untimely death? 

Somehow, the fact that it was real didn’t seem to make his heart beat any slower. But curiosity was, well, a _curious_ thing, and who was he to fight it?

After he was sure the door was firmly propped open with a stick, he took the first tentative steps across the sand. It was cold, even with a jacket- it looked like the sun had just set, and he shivered as the wind whipped around him.

For a moment, he felt almost like an astronaut (and a lame one at that) doing something nobody’d ever done before- treading on American soil, steps away from a European highway. The thought took his breath away yet again, and for a moment his footsteps faltered. 

But he couldn’t help it. It had been a while since he’d had this kind of fresh air, having been crammed into busses and vans and sweaty festivals for so long that he’d almost forgotten how nice it could be to just stop and _breathe_. So he savored it for a minute, breathing in the scent of salt and seaweed that made him wrinkle his nose. He still looked back every couple of steps, to make sure the door was still open, and then he was at the shore and the cottage was barely visible in the dim light.

The water was fucking _freezing_ , even in the middle of the summer, and he cursed and leaped back as a wave lapped at his shoe. He looked over to see a man walking towards him along the shoreline, two small dogs on his heels that yapped excitedly as they caught sight of him. A sudden wave of anxiety washed over Dan- what if he was seen? What would happen if, god forbid, somebody _recognized_ him when he was supposed to be on the other side of the fucking _planet_ \- and he shivered. _Maybe that’s enough exploring for one night._

With one last glance around at the nearly-deserted beach, he turned on his heel and jogged back to the door, holding his breath until he was safely back on the other side and his heart rate finally started to slow. _Well, at least that still works_.

Dan leaned against the door, catching his breath and letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. Fortunately, there was no movement from Kyle’s bunk this time as Dan slipped back into his bed.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket on instinct, checking to confirm it knew he was back in the right country. The time took a few seconds to sync up again (being rightfully confused about where the fuck he was) and when it did, Dan frowned. _That can’t be right._ He’d left the bus at 2am, was probably outside for no more than ten minutes...but according to his phone, he hadn’t been gone at all.

_Huh. Interesting._

The next day, Charlie complained about the sand that had suddenly appeared in the hallway, and Dan kept his mouth shut and let Kyle clean it up. Like the dramatic bastard he was, Charlie moped about the irritating grains stuck in his socks all day, and Dan wished _so badly_ that he could apologize...but he knew he couldn’t.

He also knew that this was crazy, _too_ crazy, and the last thing he should be doing was leaving the bus in the middle of the night to go explore god-knows-where without telling anybody. But who would even _believe_ him?

_Uh, yeah, sorry I got sand on the floor, it’s actually from a beach in America that I got to by stepping out of a moving bus in the middle of the night. I take no responsibility for this action. Sorry Charlie. Any questions?_

“Dan.”

He blinked, snapping back to the present. “Huh?”

Kyle was staring at him from the other side of the couch, brow furrowed. “Did you hear a _single_ thing I just said?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I did.” Dan blinked. _Fuck._ “Uh, we...were talking about films.”

“Yeeessss. And?”

“And, uh…” He chanced a look down at Kyle’s phone, open to a Google results page for _Spirited Away_. “Ghibli films.”

Kyle huffed and flipped his phone over on top of his leg. “You cheater.” There didn’t seem to be any malice in the words, so Dan laughed and shrugged helplessly.

“Sorry. I’m listening. My mind’s just...elsewhere.” _Wow. Good one. Kyle would’ve appreciated that._ He sighed. Inside jokes were no fun when you had nobody to share them with.

“Sure.” Dan didn’t like the way Kyle was eyeing him. “Have you not been sleeping again?”

“When do I ever sleep?”  
  
“Good point. And hey, since you’re _listening_ , what’s the answer to my question?”

Dan ran an anxious hand through his hair. “Oh. Uh...which question?”

“You twat. Fine. Favorite Ghibli film. Can’t be _Spirited Away_ because that’s mine.”

“Why can’t we have the same favorite?” Kyle shrugged. “Alright. Mine’s not _Spirited Away_ , anyways.”

(It was. Or, at least, it was the only one coming to mind. _Fuck_.)

Dan glanced around, eyes landing on- of fucking _course-_ the door. A smirk pulled at his face despite his best efforts to hide it. _Why not?_

“ _Howl’s Moving Castle_.” He leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms loosely. “That’s my favorite.”

“Hmm.” Kyle snorted. “Makes sense. It’s got everything for you- someone named Soph and an overdramatic self-deprecating bird-man-creature with majestic hair.”

“Wow. Bet it took you all day to come up with that one.”

“Pfft. No. You’re just too easy.”

  
“Too _easy_?” Dan scoffed, pushing his hair back again. _You’ve got no idea._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if it's just because i've been staring at these chapters since May, but I'm not a huge fan of these first few chapters, so i hope you like them!! if not i promise it gets better once the plot actually gets going a bit,,,, i have big plans for this one ;)


	5. floating in awe and wonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had always been a well-known fact that Dan was obsessed with movies. So, as any B-list protagonist suddenly facing a supernatural phenomenon would do, he immediately started experimenting. Carefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a certain someone reminded me that this has been drafted for a few days...it’s really only a filler/exposition chapter but here you go friend :)

It had always been a well-known fact that Dan was obsessed with movies. So, as any B-list protagonist suddenly facing a supernatural phenomenon would do, he immediately started experimenting. _Carefully_. 

As he’d assumed, the door was some sort of portal (if he could even bring himself to call it that) to another place, anywhere on Earth. On the next day, he accidentally made the discovery that if he tried _very_ hard, focusing on nothing else before he touched the handle, he would go wherever he was thinking of.

(...and _maybe_ it was a pizza place he remembered from his last trip to Europe. He hadn’t eaten much, okay?). Other times, though, it wasn’t quite so easy.

Dan steadfastly ignored the stares he got from his bandmates when he woke up sunburned on the third morning, had scratches down his arm from an indignant street cat the next, and had to buy a new pair of Converse after the rest got too muddy or sandy to wear without a thorough cleaning.

He knew they had questions, knew they were begging to ask him how in the world he managed to get sunburned _overnight_ (well... _where_ in the world would be more accurate, but they wouldn’t know to ask that) or how he got himself fucking injured while sleeping in what was basically a _padded box_ …

But they’d never know-- he made sure of that. It helped that the second thing he learned was that somehow, the time on the bus would always be the same when he returned, no matter how long he was gone. That came in handy most nights, to the extent that Kyle even commented on how much less tired he looked in the mornings.

And so, a routine quickly developed before he could even process it: stay awake until all was silent, sneak away for a few hours and explore until his head quieted down a bit, climb back into bed and sleep soundly until morning. 

It worked. Quite the insomnia cure, really.

The problem with having such a secret, though (as he soon found out), was that it could be quite boring after a while. Which was quite disappointing, really, seeing as he was probably experiencing the coolest, craziest fucking thing on the planet. It was definitely up there on his list of best tours, and they’d barely done a dozen shows yet.

He took pictures of everything he found interesting-- a cat in a bookstore window that blinked slowly at him from vigilant eyes, one blue and one green; a particularly vibrant sunset full of all the best yellows and pinks; a well-worn mural honoring decades of musicians wrapped around the side of an old crumbling music venue.

If asked, he’d probably say he was the happiest he’d ever been-- until, inevitably, he found his finger hovering over the button that would send all of his findings to one of the band’s many Whatsapp group chats. And then, as quickly as his breathtaking adventure had picked up speed, everything seemed to grind to a sudden, lurching, sickening halt.

He couldn’t. Obviously. But it was always on the tip of his tongue, always on his mind wherever he was, whatever he did; and it wasn’t going to just disappear anytime soon. It was growing to be an obsession, really, but what else was he supposed to _do_ with something so monumental?

It was only a matter of time before it all came crashing down. 

And Charlie, though unknowingly, was the one to notice the first red flag. 

“Look at _this_ ,” he’d exclaimed with a surprised laugh, drawing Dan and Will’s attention before soundcheck. “I think this is the best fan account I’ve seen yet.”

Dan felt the world tip on its axis as he scanned the page Charlie pushed in front of his face. 

“ _Bastille Doppelgängers_?” Will scoffed disinterestedly. “This excites you _why_ , exactly?”

“Because _look_!” Charlie pulled the phone back and swiped down to a post. [ “It’s my Romanian twin!” ](https://www.instagram.com/p/BH-FRcchhiU/?igshid=rixftl5vmglq)

“That looks _nothing_ like- maybe if you _squint_ …”

“It _does_!” Charlie insisted, barely noticing how Dan’s eyes stayed glued to the phone screen as he scrolled through the rest of the posts. “It’s mostly Dan on here, anyways. It’s insane how many people have his hair.”

“Really?” Dan asked with all the casualness he could manage, gesturing for Charlie to hand the phone over. His own hand was shaking as he scrolled back up to the most recent photo, the one that had made his heart stop in the first place.

It was a man, dressed in a gray jacket and sweatpants, sat at an outside cafe on a dimly lit street. A coffee cup was cradled in one hand, a cell phone in the other. Bathed only in the light of the neon signs above the cafe, the photo was blurry and underexposed-- the figure virtually unrecognizable to anyone except Dan.

Because it _was_ him, sitting there in-- Chicago, was it?-- the night he’d had the run-in with the feral cat. He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly overly conscious of just how recognizable it could be in a picture, and laughed nervously.

“Guess it’s catching on,” he joked, passing the phone back and wiping his palm on his pant leg. His insides felt like they were going through a food processor as Charlie continued to scroll down the page. Will had wandered off towards the stage, tiring quickly of the excitement, but Dan was entirely glued to the floor. 

At the time, it had felt surreal, like an out-of-body experience, to step through that door. But now there was _tangible evidence,_ slamming into him with the force of a freight train, and Dan felt like he was going to be sick.

People had seen him. They hadn’t recognized him, _yet_ , but that was only because they knew it _couldn’t_ be him.

Sooner or later, though, it would be too obvious to hide. He thought he’d been careful-- paying for his coffee (decaf, obviously-- it may have been evening in Chicago, but it was still past 1am where the bus was) with his phone instead of a card with his name on it, keeping his distance from other people, not staying in one spot too long-- and someone had still managed to sneak a photo of him without him noticing.

Dan barely noticed the crew call him over to start soundcheck. He glanced around at everyone rushing about to put the show together, feeling more lost than ever amongst the chaos.

“Y’alright?” Woody frowned as he passed Dan on the way off stage-- his soundcheck was the shortest of them all, and Dan blinked as he realized he’d been staring blindly through the whole thing. Charlie had slipped away, too, probably to call his wife before the show. 

He sighed, blinking against the light as if it would somehow transport him back to reality. He couldn’t afford to let any of this get in the way of everything they had going for them on this tour. He couldn’t be half-aware of everything going on, drifting through real life until he could get back to his personal fantasy worlds at night. That wasn’t how it worked, magic portal or not.

But _really_ , a part of him murmured enticingly in the base of his skull...was reality all that interesting, anyways? 

Whatever happened on that bus, and everywhere else, it was his secret to keep-- but perhaps it wasn’t going to be his secret for as long as he would’ve liked.


End file.
